


Waiting Rooms Are For Making Conversation

by I_write_things_sometimes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Flirts, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Waiting Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_write_things_sometimes/pseuds/I_write_things_sometimes
Summary: Bucky and Rhodey both have appointments at the Brooklyn Veteran's Hospital, and Steve and Tony happen to meet in the waiting room. Tony flirts shamelessly, Steve laughs for the first time in a while, and they both quickly realize they've found something special.But what are the odds of either of them actually doing a damned thing about it?





	Waiting Rooms Are For Making Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gilestel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilestel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Come Here Often?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665883) by [gilestel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilestel/pseuds/gilestel). 

> Gilestel, your comic just blew me away. It was such an incredible work of art. I hope this fic does it justice in your eyes :) <3. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

It was the third Thursday of the month, which meant it was time for Bucky’s bi-monthly physical therapy appointment, and no matter how many times Bucky insisted he could go alone, Steve was having absolutely none of it. He was determined to be there for his friend.

Because of his ‘ridiculous stubborn streak,’ as Bucky called it, they made it to the VA hospital without Bucky forcing Steve to stay home. Even if he _was_ still protesting. 

“You know Steve, you really don’t have to tag along to these appointments,” Bucky said, sounding more tired than genuinely frustrated.

“I meant it when I said I was with you ’til the end of the line, Buck,” Steve replied easily as if it were that simple because, really, it was.

Bucky shot him a Look, but ultimately relented with a deep sigh. “I somehow doubt I’ll reach the end of the line in my physical therapist’s waiting room.”

“You’re probably right,” Steve agreed as he opened the door and walked into the cool air of the lobby. “But best to be prepared, don’t you think?”

Bucky didn’t respond, which was just as well because Sam caught them at the counter before he really would have had a chance.

“Bucky!” Sam called with a wide smile. “Just the man I’ve been waiting to see.”

* * *

Just outside, Tony was having a similarly familiar argument — but one entirely different in content — with Rhodey.

“I’m just sayin’…” Tony said in a slightly sing-song voice as he maneuvered Rhodey’s custom-built (by him, of course) wheelchair toward the doors. “I could have you transferred to one of the _best_ hospitals in the world in 30 seconds flat.”

“_Tony._ We’ve discussed this. I’m happy staying with the VA.” Rhodey shook his head vehemently. “Besides, _this_,” he waved his left hand at the building beside them, “was already a compromise. 

“We come out to _Brooklyn_ for these appointments because you insisted on using some complex algorithm to analyze hospital data neither of us actually understand, and that algorithm determined the Brooklyn Veteran’s Hospital — for whatever reason — was the best option.” Rhodey sighed like the process he’d just described, which had taken place _months_ ago, still bothered him even now.

“That’s not what it determined,” Tony said, with only a hint of irritation in his voice as he corrected Rhodey, “It determined that this was the best choice given your limited parameters: Veteran’s hospitals in a 60-mile radius. There are dozens of _better_ hospitals.”

“I don’t _need_ a fancy private hospital.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tony said. He pressed the button that told the automatic doors to open and accommodate the wheelchair. “I feel like I’m stepping back in time when we come here. The computers don’t have touch screens and you can _hear them struggling_ when they’re powered up_._ Not to mention last time we were here I swear to god I saw a doctor using a _blackberry_. One of the not-oval but not-rectangular ones from 2011.”

Rhodey didn’t have to be looking at Tony to know the comment was accompanied by a full-body shudder.

* * *

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky said with a small half-smile. He moved to sign in on the patient check-in form as Sam turned his focus on Steve.

“Hey, Steve! Any chance we’ll see you at group this week?” 

Steve knew exactly what he was referring to. Sam had mentioned the group therapy sessions offered by the VA a few months back, and he usually asked — somehow remaining curious and encouraging rather than forceful or judgmental — if Steve had changed his mind about the idea. He hadn’t yet. But… maybe one day. Steve hadn’t ruled it out. 

“Sorry, Sam,” Steve said, feeling a little guilty, but not enough to change his decision. “I’m just here for Bucky.”

“Ah well… one day I’ll talk you into it,” Sam said, looking at Bucky who had finished signing in. “Hey, he listens to you, right?” Sam asked in a stage-whisper (or half-whisper really), clearly about to do his best to weaponize Bucky’s persuasive powers to get him to attend group therapy.

Bucky sort of shrugged. 

The IED that had taken Bucky’s arm had also made him much quieter than he’d ever been before the accident. Even when it was just him and Steve, he didn’t always say very much anymore. 

It was okay; he communicated with surprising effectiveness without words. Even his simple shrug conveyed enough that Steve and Sam both understood exactly what Bucky meant: _‘Steve rarely listens to anyone._’

Before they could spend much time picking that apart, the nurse poked her head out of the back and called, “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky quickly went for the doors, which promptly slammed behind him. Steve couldn’t help but frown a little, worried. He knew, logically, that Bucky hadn’t slammed the doors to the hallway that led to the PT rooms. But he was also familiar enough with the sound of doors slamming at home to connect the sound to Bucky’s distress. He sighed. 

“You know he’s making amazing progress, right?” Sam asked, concern etched into his features. For who, Steve couldn’t tell anymore. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded slowly. “I still worry though.”

“He’ll be okay, Steve,” Sam said, reaching out and clapping Steve on the shoulder reassuringly. “You both will. Just takes time.”

Steve nodded a little. Something about hearing someone else say the words made it feel more true. 

* * *

Rhodey went straight to the portion of the lobby that processed radiology patients. He was due for another round of x-rays to get the status of the vertebrae fractures, which should be entirely healed, and an MRI to check the spinal cord injury. It was going to be a bit of a lengthy appointment, and Tony planned to sit in the waiting room the entire time in case his friend needed him.

And, if Rhodey didn’t need him, well then, Tony would be there to drive him home. They’d pick up a pizza on the way. It was a tradition now, after a dozen or so appointments since Rhodey had made it back home.

“I could build you legs,” Tony said almost absently, arms crossed in front of him as he looked between Rhodey and the orderly who was ready to take him back to prep him for the scans. “You’d be a cyborg. It’d be cool.”

“Seriously, Tones. You don’t need to hover.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. He’d already nixed the robot legs idea a few times. “Don’t you have a company to run?” he added under his breath a second later.

Before Tony could reply to that, Rhodey looked at nurse sharply with a warning in his eyes. It was moments like these that reminded Tony that his best friend was a U.S. Air Force Colonel and ‘_damn good at it, I’ll have you know, Tony.’ _

_ “_Do _not_ let him back here,” he ordered.

“Gotcha…” the nurse said nervously looking from Rhodey to Tony. Tony put on his best, most charming smile and generally tried to look non-threatening. With any luck, maybe she’d recognize him. Based on the way her eyes quickly went back to Rhodey and a bead of sweat had formed at her temple, Tony doubted it. 

_Way to scare her, Rhodes,_ Tony thought.

“I’ll be fine,” Rhodey said, following the woman down the hall as he waved Tony’s concern away with his right hand like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Tony smiled a little. Even with all of this, his best friend hadn’t really changed that much. It was comforting.

Tony slipped off his suit coat — it was cool in the lobby but never quite cold enough to comfortably keep a jacket on for the duration of a lengthy appointment — and made a beeline for one of the empty chairs in the lobby. Time to wait. 

* * *

Steve _almost_ hesitated when he saw someone sitting right next to his usual chair. He seriously considered sitting somewhere else. It was a near thing.

Except, that it really wasn’t. Despite the fact that there were plenty of other empty chairs in the waiting room, Steve knew from the start — with a tired sort of resolve and resignation — he was going to sit in his usual chair. 

There were many benefits to the chair in question which made it superior to the other chairs in the waiting room. 

First, it had taken two appointments, but Steve knew for a fact that _his chair_ had the best vantage point to monitor the first set of double doors he and Bucky had come through _and_ the set on the other end of the lobby which was primarily used by radiology patients. Was that sort of hyper-vigilance what Sam would call ‘normal, healthy behavior’? No, probably not. But Steve was _fine_. He was managing.

Second, it allowed him to see the hospital employee tasked with providing parking instructions to patient family members and, occasionally, even patients themselves. It was beyond paranoid, but sometimes people in stressful medical situations were… frazzled. Not thinking clearly. It wasn’t too big of a leap to think that things could get violent, even if Steve hadn’t ever seen it before. Steve _knew _this was well into ‘unhealthy’ territory but really couldn’t do much about, things being what they were

Third, it was nowhere near an electrical outlet or a magazine-covered table. In Steve’s experience, that made it the exact _opposite_ of an in-demand seat. In fact, it meant Steve almost never had to deal with anyone sitting near him, and he preferred it that way.

Unfortunately, today was the exception.

Steve went straight for his chair anyway. 

The man sitting in the other chair didn’t so much as glance up from his phone as Steve sat down and pulled out his smallest sketchbook. It wasn’t tiny by any means, but he could fit it into his large jean pocket which made it the most portable. He tapped his pencil against the page silently as he tried to decide what to work on today. 

It was something like a routine now for Steve to sketch up some sort of silly comic while Bucky was in the middle of a physical therapy appointment. When they got home, he always hid it somewhere in the apartment for Bucky to find later. 

He started on a fuzzy outline of the cartoon version of Bucky. He hadn’t fully decided on a storyline yet, but it was always a good assumption that Bucky would be one of the main players — and he had a sliver of an idea related to an interaction they’d had with a subway mariachi band on the way to the appointment.

Steve suppressed a full-body shiver at just the memory. He thought making light of the situation would make Bucky smile, and that was the ultimate end goal.

He’d started on the cartoon in earnest by the time he was interrupted. 

The interruption was so unexpected and out of nowhere that it took Steve’s brain a full ten seconds to realize the, “You come here often?” comment from off to his right was actually directed at _him_. 

Part of that was probably the fact that he hadn’t heard anyone address him in such a soft, playful, and dare he think it… _flirtatious _tone since well before his last deployment.

He reacted on instinct. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said with a startled laugh. He suddenly found himself staring into startlingly observant, and bright brown eyes. “I guess you could say that. Twice a month like clockwork.” He could have left it there. Nothing demanded he continue a conversation with a complete stranger. And, yet… “You?”

“Same here, actually. But more like… four times a month.” Something dark and sad flashed across the man’s face for a fraction of a second before he recovered his original smile. It was a hell of a smile, Steve thought. “For now, anyway.”

“Are you here with someone or…?” Steve still wasn’t sure what he was doing, but some part of his brain was urging him not to be the one who let the conversation die.

“Is it that obvious?” For a fraction of a second the man pulled off a look of genuine offense, but it quickly faded into a wickedly playful expression, like he knew what effect his comment was going to have even before Steve did. 

“Oh. Um, no. Of course not. I just…” Steve floundered. A red hot blush burned its way up his neck. It was completely ungraceful, but he couldn’t think of an _I’m not crazy_ way to say ‘you took your jacket off and people don’t normally do that before they made it to the place intended to stay for a good length of time, so I assumed you planned to wait here for a while and there aren’t any other patients in this waiting room that would cause a long wait.’ “Well, I — ”

“I’m kidding,” the man said, genuinely laughing now and holding up a hand to stop Steve and put him out of his stammering misery. “Sorry, that was mean. Trust me, I know I don’t look like a veteran. No one has ever mistaken me for a soldier. Taking orders isn’t really my thing.” He paused for a moment, as if processing his words at the same time he said them. “Well, at least not in terms of my job. Other areas are a different story.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Steve felt the embarrassed blush already staining his cheeks double in severity. 

Part of Steve wanted to sink into the floor and never see or speak to this man again. Part of him wanted to just follow the crazy conversation to wherever it led. He didn’t really have anything to lose at this point. 

He tore his eyes away from the other man’s face and glued them to his sketchbook, willing the hot flush on his cheeks to subside at least a little.

“Sorry. Again,” the man said, his voice a little softer and less playful. Steve looked up and found an honest expression of contrition on his face. “I really should listen to my PA more when she suggests I spend time doing things I normally consider unimportant like creating a brain-to-mouth filter, for example.”

Steve smiled a little as the embarrassment faded slightly. “It’s okay.” He felt like he was on slightly more stable ground now for some reason. “And, for the record, all I meant was you looked like you were settled in to wait for a while,” Steve tipped his chin toward the jacket draped over the arm of the chair to the other man’s right. _Like me with my sketchbook,_ Steve thought.

“Oh, so pretty and smart then,” the man said, eyes bright and full of mischief all over again. Annnnnd the blush was back. Damn it. “You’re right. My best friend’s here having an MRI, so I’ll be here for a bit.”

“Oh, I hope everything’s all right…” It was a stupid thing to say; clearly, things weren’t all right. But the other man didn’t look at him like he was an idiot.

“He’s doing remarkably well, considering. Thanks.” The cloud of darkness flashed across the man’s face again, briefly. It was disconcerting. Already, Steve thought of this man as someone who deserved to spend his time smiling, happy. “How about you? Patient or posse?” The man blinked and then narrowed his brown eyes in consideration. “Unless that’s nosy. Pepper also tells me I’m not good at respecting normal social boundaries.”

Pepper must be the PA in question, then.

“It’s fine. I’m here with a friend, too. Just for a physical therapy appointment, though.” 

The man nodded thoughtfully. “Well, now that I’ve hit on you, made you blush three separate times — yes, I noticed — ” The man smirked, and _God_ that smirk was dangerous. “_And_ got all nosy with your personal life, I feel like I should introduce myself. I’m Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Tony said, nodding. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Thanks, I think?”

“It was a compliment, don’t worry.”

Steve smiled.

Steve’s smile was incredible. Top ten smiles for sure, if Tony had to rank favorites. It was a little unbelievable. But his laugh? His laugh was even more amazing, somehow. 

It was like the clouds parting to reveal the sun in Seattle combined with an entire household’s collective joy on Christmas morning.

Tony definitely wasn’t entirely gone on Steve already. And he definitely hadn’t abandoned the 10,000 — that was rounding _down_ the actual number — emails on his phone fifteen minutes ago to talk to an artistic, stupidly beautiful stranger.

He certainly hadn’t been regaling Steve with a story about U and Dum-E, one that just so happened to end with the bots dousing him and Rhodey in fire-extinguishing gel, for five minutes in an attempt to get this very reaction. And he absolutely wasn’t _beyond_ pleased about having gotten Steve to laugh like this.

“Wow,” Steve said when he’d gotten a handle on the laughing. “I haven’t laughed like that in… I don’t even know how long. But seriously, how is that your life? Robots and frequent enough fires that you have a ‘protocol’ for them? One your robots can’t even follow, apparently.”

Tony snorted a little because, okay, that was a fair criticism. 

“Hey, they’re _learning,_” Tony said, teasing. “I mean, come on. Fire was a tough concept for humans to grasp, let alone poor robots who have to learn everything they know from me, of all people.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, eyes narrowed in speculation. “I barely know you, but if I had to pick a person to program robots for me at some point in the future, I’m pretty sure I’d pick you.”

“Flatterer,” Tony said with a dismissive eye roll that he hoped would hide exactly how much that comment meant to him. Comment? Compliment? It was so rare that someone complimented Tony on substantial things — on the things he _cared_ about and liked about himself — that he wasn’t even sure how to respond to it.

Steve shrugged. “I’m told I’m good at ‘calling situations how I see them.’”

Tony didn’t think too much about his next words, lest he talk himself out of saying them. “That’s probably true, but I have to say my first impression was that you’re a fantastically creative artist who really cares about his friend.”

Steve shot a glance at his sketchbook, and his eyes widened as he seemed to realize it had been sitting open on his lap this whole time. Oops. Tony hoped he hadn’t touched on a nerve. Steve blushed a little again, and _holy fuck _was that attractive. 

“Thanks,” he said. He looked down at the half-sketched comic again. “But this is silly, really. Just something to pass the time and brighten Buck’s day a little when I can.”

Tony caught a hint of sadness at the end of the sentence and he latched on it before he could talk himself out of it. 

“How long did you two serve?”

“That obvious, huh?” Steve said, tossing Tony’s earlier words back at him with a small smile. “Eleven years. Three and uh— well, three and a half tours.”

The pain now etched into Steve’s face at whatever memories the sentence brought up was answer enough. Clearly whatever cut their fourth tour short had been horrible, and it wasn’t any of Tony’s business to pry into it. 

“Did you enlist right out of high school?” That seemed like a fairly safe question. Steve couldn’t have been much older than 30, and to have served eleven years, well. Tony could do the math.

“Yep.” Steve nodded definitively. “I always wanted to serve my country, and it’s not like I had any money for college even if I’d wanted to go that route.” 

Despite the casual talk of inequity, some of the sadness actually eased out of the harsh set of Steve’s jaw and the deep furrow between his brows, as if the memory of being a broke teenager was a happy one for some reason. For all Tony knew, it was. War tended to change people.

“Well I won’t be one of those people to toss out the ‘thank you for your service’ line because God knows Rhodey would kill me if I was ever guilty of what he refers to as an ‘insincere load of bullshit that comes from people who just don’t get it and want to feel better about themselves,’ on his more prickly days,” Tony said, with a small smile. “But, I will say that it takes a uniquely brave and selfless sort of person to do something like that, especially so young. It’s… impressive, if I had to pick just one word.”

Steve looked a little surprised by the turn of the conversation, but he didn’t let that stop him. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. More like it takes someone incredibly, stupidly stubborn and always looking for a fight.” It wasn’t a bitter comment so much as a matter-of-fact one. The sound of someone discussing their younger self with acceptance rather than shame or frustration.

“Oh, so I’m talking to a trouble-maker, then?” Tony teased. 

“You have no idea.” Steve rolled his eyes, a smile twitching at his lips. “God, you should hear Bucky tell the story about the time I almost got stabbed in an alley ten blocks from our school.”

“What?!” Tony squawked, entirely shocked and unable to control his tone of voice. “Steve, what the hell did you _do_?”

“_I _didn’t do anything. I’ll have you know, I was entirely on the right side of that particular dispute.”

“That _particular_ one?”

“Well.” Steve shrugged, smirking a little now. Unsurprisingly, Tony really liked this new side of Steve which was more confident, more relaxed, and even a little funnier. “It’s hard to be on the right side of every fight when there are so many.”

“Steve!” Tony laughed a little, but it was the concerned type of laughter. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you the knife story just to prove I was on the right side, but that’s it.”

* * *

When Bucky walked out into the lobby after this appointment ended, Sam quickly flagged him over to the far corner of the room. Bucky went toward him, slightly confused but willing to play along.

For some reason Bucky couldn’t immediately pinpoint, Sam was lingering in an empty corner of the lobby. 

As one of the VA counselors, he often drifted through the waiting room to talk to vets and their families about mental health and VA counseling services. But there was no one here now except Steve, who’d already heard Sam’s rundown several times. 

Bucky glanced toward the person in question and froze in shock. Steve _wasn’t_ the only person here.

“Dude you have to chill,” Sam hissed now that Bucky was close enough that they could carry out a conversation without interrupting the very… _animated_ discussion Steve was currently engaged in. “I think if Steve plays his cards right, he's going to get his number.” Bucky blinked in shock. “They’ve been talking like this for close to an hour, now,” Sam added. 

“Seriously?” Bucky hadn’t seen Steve show interest in anyone in a long, long time.

“Seriously.”

Bucky looked the other man over. He was attractive, with dark hair and the kind of facial hair Bucky knew Steve was secretly a sucker for. For whatever reason, he’d come to the VA hospital wearing a perfectly tailored suit that had to have cost thousands of dollars. He actually… looked a little familiar? 

“Holy shit,” Bucky said, voice devoid of emotion. “Is that — ?”

“Yes.”

“Does Steve — ?”

“I have no idea. He’s _your _best friend. What do you think?”

“There’s not a chance in hell he realized it on his own.”

“Incredible. How can someone so smart be so woefully uninformed?”

“Practice,” Bucky said, deadpan. 

Sam laughed just a little too loud, and Bucky sighed. That was that. 

He caught Steve’s glance toward him and Sam in time to see just the smallest flash of disappointment before he forced himself to smile.

Bucky smirked just a little. He was _absolutely_ going to tease Steve for that later.

Steve nodded at him in acknowledgment and then turned back to wrap up his conversation with _Tony fucking Stark_ of all people. Steve was lucky he was a _lovable_ dumbass. 

Bucky and Sam shifted slightly to more effectively pretend they were talking rather than spying on Steve and his new friend. Sam had his back to the pair now, and Bucky was watching them over Sam’s shoulder. 

“He has to ask for his number, right?” Sam said. “He can’t possibly be dumb enough to — ”

“You don’t know Steve like I do.”

“Well maybe Stark will just — ”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Aw, fuck. Really?” Sam whined. “Come on. Work with me,” he said, looking up at the ceiling as if some higher entity could help solve the problem of Bucky’s idiot friend. 

Steve really did look lighter somehow. Happier.

“Maybe…” Bucky trailed off. “Maybe a future scheduling error could cause them to cross paths again. You know, hypothetically.”

Sam lit up. “I like the way you think, Barnes.”

“Hey Buck,” Steve said, finally joining them all the way across the lobby. Bucky glanced at Stark to find him fully absorbed in something on his phone again. Already. “You ready to go?”

Maybe Bucky had judged the whole interaction wrong if Stark was just going to tune back into his regular life immediately afterward while Steve was still in the room. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “You?” He couldn’t resist a pointed glance back at the other man in the waiting room, with one eyebrow raised.

Steve blushed. _Bingo. _“Yes,” he said, a stern look of warning on his face. He pivoted to address Sam. “It was good seeing you, Sam.”

“Same to you guys,” Sam nodded at them both. “See you in two weeks.”

Bucky walked out first with Steve right behind him, leaving the inexplicable and lengthy conversation with Tony Stark in their wake.

* * *

Steve nearly made it to the subway before his phone buzzed. Confused — the one person who frequently texted him was standing next to him — Steve pulled up the message immediately.

Or, well. Messages.

** Unknown:** _Hey. Tony here. Tony Stark. _

**Unknown:** _Okay, so I might kind of be the internationally-known face of a major tech company who most people seem to recognize, but I definitely don’t think you did (very much a good thing in this instance). I totally didn’t illegally obtain your phone number using a variety of sources I’m not at liberty to disclose. _

**Unknown: **_I just… really enjoyed talking to you. No pressure, but if the whole ‘Stark’ thing doesn’t freak you out, and you’re ever interested in getting together again, I’d love to spend more time with you. If not, thanks for the laugh. _

**Unknown:** Oh,_ and for your safety and the good of New York, please avoid people with knives in the future ;)._

Steve didn’t even hear Bucky’s incessant teasing in the background as he immediately typed his reply, beaming as he did. 

**Steve:** _You’re lucky you found the right Steve Rogers on the first try. Although, knowing you, you verified it six different ways before sending this even though it’s only been like four minutes since I left you in the lobby._

**Steve: **_You’re right; I didn’t recognize you. My friends are never going to shut up about it, but it doesn’t bother me. I really enjoyed talking to you, too, and I’d love to see you again. Name the time and place, and I’m there._

**Steve: **_And as for your last request, well, I’ll meet you in the middle and avoid the sharp end of the knives. Best offer, so take it or leave it._

Tony’s reply was instant.

**Unknown:** _I’ll take it (for now)._

**Unknown: **_Does 7 p.m. tomorrow work for you, at the burger place two blocks from the hospital?_

** Steve:** _That’s perfect. See you then._

Steve added Tony's contact into his phone quickly.

**Tony:** _Can’t wait._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! Please, let me know what you think because I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback :). 
> 
> Also, absolutely pop over to Gilestel's AO3 page to give her comic all the love. You can find it [right here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665883)


End file.
